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baddieladdie · 6 months ago

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Hello!! So I'm an RPer (gross) and I dabble with Joshua Graham. I do cross-canon occasionally and I have stumbled on weird romantic (maybe??) tension with him and RE5/blonde Jill Valentine based on the fact they both were manipulated by someone they respected and did horrible things (even if hers were against her will and he did them by choice) and it's become this heavy, weird tension full of lame, longing gazes and pretty decent fight scenes! Is it possible to get them together? 😬

Regardless, stumbled on your work and I love it!! 😍

I have not played Resident Evil, actually! I had to look up who Jill Valentine was, at first I thought she was Nick Valentine's daughter in some AU\

SO - How 'bout this? I will get us started with some opening context on Joshua Graham. Then you could take it from there? I have a feeling you are a bit more familiar with Jill than I am :)

Tag me if you add on to this - I'd love to give a read!

An idea for a structure could be:

Ch1 - Joshua Graham (see below the cut) Ch2 - Jill Valentine Ch3 - Combat/Meet-cute, Joshua and Jill meet in fire fight Ch4 - Connection/Tension/Romance

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Rating: Teen

Description: Mormon missionary turned co-founder of Caesar's Legion now roams Zion under the guise of folk legends as the Burned Man. He is haunted by his actions while part of the Legion, yet cannot so easily release his dependence on violence as he leads a vicious campaign to bring 'God's justice' to all those who would threaten the safety of the innocent.

Joshua drags his thumb across the bumpy ridges of his Bible. Absent-mindedly, he traces each letter stitched into the black leather. The book was worn down. It could hardly be recognized for what it was - the Holy word of God. The book, like Joshua the man, had been irritably changed in time by the unforgiving nature of this mortal life. Joshua flips through the book, pausing at a page crinkled by a dried blood stain.

18 For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, 19 but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect. 1 Peter 1:18-19

“Divide et impera,” Edward exclaimed, gesturing to his beloved novel ‘Commentarii de Bello Gallico’. “Divide and Conquer. Joshua, this is just like the Roman Empire of great! We conquer these tribes and we make them better. Stronger! Outfit them with weapons and battle strategies. From this tribal strife, we will raise a great and mighty empire!” Sallow laughed with cynical joy.

“It is brutal,” Joshua mumbled in thought. Edward had studied all his life with the Followers of the Apocalypse. His knowledge of societal development and anthropology were next to none. Perhaps Sallows knew something he didn’t. And the good Lord knows it’s good to have friends. He should trust Edward to the very end. Joshua nodded hesitantly,“What better way to unify these groups than under the threat of death. They would have a better chance of surviving if they worked together.”

“Yes, yes!” Edward walked around the table to get closer to the hesitant missionary and man he called friend. “Leave the brutality to the soldiers. I-” He awkwardly cleared his throat and corrected himself, “We only need you to translate.” He gestured openly with a wide smile. “You’ll never have an opportunity like this again, my friend.”

So that is what Joshua Graham did. He translated for Edward as he spoke to the crowds of tribals he had gathered. But soon, translating became giving orders. Giving orders slowly became leading in battle. Leading in battle became training, punishing, terrorizing. A series of small mistakes before Joshua Graham's great fall.

In time, he would become Caesar’s second in command and most trusted advisor. Never had Graham held such power. Death came as he demanded it. Riches poured from the Earth as he wished it. It was as if the very thread of fate was his to design.

Cursed is everyone who is hung on a pole. Galatians 3:13

Sweat beaded at the tip of Joshua’s nose as the Mojave sun beat down on him. Sand carried in the wind irritated his skin. He cursed, putting the hammer down for a moment to adjust the legionary mask snuggly around his nose and mouth.

“Please, I haven’t done anything wrong. Let me go!” The man cried in desperate agony, trying to pull his hand free from where it had been nailed to the cross. Blood spurted generously from the wound Joshua had inflicted. The naked man screamed from a place of consuming pain, but no living soul was around to hear. Their only witnesses were the bodies left in Joshua’s wake. And the man’s pleas meant nothing to the heart that had hardened inside him. Joshua had heard the dying screams of men, women, and children far to often to feel anything at all. He was as stoic as the corpses behind them.

Graham leaned over the man screaming and punched him squarely in the jaw. The jaw swung open lazily, the man stared up at Joshua horrified that he could no longer speak. Joshua firmly grasped the man’s free hand and pinned it to the right arm of the wooden cross. The man under him squirmed in futile effort to free himself from his inevitable fate. The hammer came down swiftly, pushing the rusty nail through the delicate flesh of the man’s palm. Blood sprinkled Joshua’s legion uniform. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. No matter - his job here was done. The resistance group dead and their leader crucified. With a grunt of effort, Joshua stood the cross up. It was an eyesore against the flat desert landscape. However, it sufficiently served as a warning to any who would cross Caesar and his legion.

Joshua dusted himself off and stowed his hammer away. He turned his back on the suffering man and walked slowly across the desert plain back home. Home to Caesar’s legion.

John answered them all, “I baptize you with water. But one who is more powerful than I will come, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. Luke 3:16

The nervous raw recruits stumbled forward towards the center of the dam. The veteran's stood before the Malpais Legate (Joshua Graham), silently recalling their first battles as a raw recruit. Joshua felt no remorse. He had followed the Legion military doctrine excellently. They had the enemy on the run and he intended to leave no survivors. Dead men tell no tales.

THUNK

The legionary veteran collapsed next to Graham, a bullet wound oozing from the back of his head. Instinctively, he traced the bullet's trajectory to a platoon of sharpshooters. The First Recon of the New California Republic.

THUNK THUNK THUNK

Bodies of veteran soldiers fell around him at an alarming rate. "Fall back!" the Malpais Legate cried. The raw recruits panicked at the order, dropping their weapons and running for their lives. More experienced soldiers simply pivoted and ran for the ridge.

THUNK THUNK

Bodies of legionaries continued to mount as they made their escape towards the pass through the ridge. Joshua's eye was caught by a glint in the afternoon sunlight. More First Recon shoots and NCR rangers. It was a trap - this whole damn time! Joshua cursed himself, then Caesar for underestimating Chief Hanlon. Swallowing his rising panic, he shouted over the pop of rifles, "Be weary of crossfire! To Boulder City! For Caesar!"

The is when he lost the remainder of his good men. Boulder City wasn't just protected by rangers and sharpshoots. The whole damn city was rigged to explode. Mines and traps lined every square inch of the town. The opposition, having placed them, evaded the threats, only luring the legionaries in further. What was meant to be a great victory for the mighty Caesar had become a costly defeat.

veni , vidi, victus

"Mighty Caesar," Joshua approached his life-long friend's throne. "We have lost this battle, but not the war. I won't give up. We-"

"You will do no such thing," Edward barked at him. "Your failure has brought shame to the great legion of Caesar! Such a disgrace will not be tolerated, Malpais Legate." Sallow spat his words with such vile hate, Joshua could no longer recognize him. The personification of the roman emperor, Caesar Augustus, had finally consumed the former- follower of the apocalypse completely. No more was Joshua's friend present before him.

"And for your transgression against the might of Caesar, you shall be burned to death!" Caesar shouted til he was red in the face. "Legionaries! Cover the former-Malpais Legate in pitch, lit him on fire and cast him into the Grand Canyon!"

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and it to the full. John 10:10

“Life has not been good to us without your guidance, Joshua.” Follows-Chalk guided a stumbling Joshua Graham through the Dead Horse camp. “We tried to live in your ways but have been driven from our home. With your return, we can take back Zion from the White Legs.”

"I am sorry to hear what has come to pass. God willing, I can undo the harm that has been done here."

"What...happened to you, Joshua?" Follows-Chalk paused, noticing that Joshua had been lagging behind.

"I do not enjoy reflecting, but I pray to God that someone may learn from my mistakes. Was there something specific, Follows-Chalk?"

Follows-Chalk eyed the puss oozing from the bandages around Joshua's face. His bloodshot eyes and uneven gait all clearly showed the man was in undeniable pain.

"How did you survive, Joshua? Such a fall would have killed most men."

"I survived because the fire inside burned brighter than the fire around me. I feel down into that dark chasm, but the flame burned on and on. The next morning, I woke up and crawled out of the northern edge of the Grand Canyon, that cursed place. It took me three months to return."

Follows-Chalk hung to every word of Joshua's tragic downfall, guiding him to the healer's tent and away from the gaze of the merciless sun.

"The Dead Horses are happy you have returned to us. You are welcome to stay," Follows-Chalk spoke sympathetically. He opened the tent wide for Joshua. The man hissed at the pain as he crouched under the flap to enter the room. "You have been good to us, Joshua."

"You are kind to offer," Joshua groaned as he lowered himself onto a straw mat. A woman rushed over with a basin of clean water and bandages. "It never stops burning. My skin. Every day, I have to unwind the bandages and replace them with fresh ones." He nodded his thanks to the woman. She smiled politely and awkwardly shuffled out. "Exposing my body to the air is like living through it again. But it's better to be clean than comfortable."

Follows-Chalk nodded and turned away to give the Burned Man space to clean his wounds. "Have you met Daniel? He is a missionary like you."

"Who?"

"A Mormon, like you Joshua. He is helping the Sorrows not far from here."

"Take me to him," Joshua gasped in a pain as he removed a bandage that has wound had adhered too. Fresh blood trickled down his back. "In the morning. Tomorrow will be here soon enough. And there is much to do. God be with you, Follows-Chalk."

Like an enemy he has strung his bow; his right hand is ready…he has poured out his wrath like fire on the tent of Daughter Zion. Lamentations 2:4

"Ye have sown death and so shall ye reap it!" Joshua roared, lunging towards the remaining White Legs tribals. He greedily drove his knife into the back of tribal, revealing in the screams of man he had not heard in years.

The lost courier beside him fired lucky shots from a .45 pistol. The bodies of White Legs fell around them until only Salt-Upon-Wounds remained alive.

Joshua stood over Salt-Upon-Wounds. His jagged features highlighted in the dim firelight. It was akin to watching a skilled hunter taunt and play with its prey as it made feeble attempts to escape. "We warned you at Syracuse, and you persisted. You took advantage of us at New Canaan to drive us out, and like the dogs of Caesar you are, you followed us to Zion. And now you stand on holy ground, a temple to God's glory on Earth. But the only use for an animal in our temple is sacrifice!" He smiled grimly at the terror in Salt-Upon-Wounds as the tribal leader curled in terror under Joshua's gaze. "Kale watcha nei conserva oh! You understand me, don't you? Don't you?!"

"Outman!" Salt-Upon-Wounds hissed at the mentally distant courier. "Kuma-man mad! He has killed all White Legs. Please, you talk. You stop this!"

"Stand up and look at what's come for you!" Joshua pulled the tribal leader to his feet. Salt-Upon-Wounds raised trembling hands behind his head.

"Don't listen to this… thing!" Joshua spat. "His cries are those of a mad beast caught in a thicket! He gave no mercy to my family, and I will give none to his!"

The courier squinted their eyes at Joshua, "Is this coming from the missionary Joshua Graham or Malpais Legate? This is brutal and beyond reason. You know it is. Look Joshua, you've already won," The courier gestured to the bodies of the dead that surrounded them. "There's no need to kill him."

"He has a debt to pay for what he's done and I've come to collect," Joshua stammered, but the anger was already starting the leave him and along with it, his conviction. "And so he's chosen to cower in the water like a dumb animal."

The courier stepped over still bodies, moving closer to Joshua. "If what you believe is true," the courier stumbled slightly over an arm shrouded in the darkness. "he'll pay for it later." The courier balanced themselves next to him and whispered, "The Sorrows don't need to see you this. Let's go."

"Go," Joshua sighed in defeat. He released Salt-Upon-Wounds and continued, "Get out of here. Go back. Back to the Great Salt Lake."

Joshua watched Salt-Upon-Wounds scamper off and abruptly turned to the Courier. Angerly, he fumed, "I wanted to take from them what they took from me, from my family!" The courier watched him with mindful pity.

Joshua sighed, allowing his true sadness, underneath all the rage, to flow in. "In this life. I want them to suffer. I want all of them to die in fear and pain," He continued. "I want to have my revenge. Against him. Against Caesar. I want to call it my own, to make my anger God's anger. To justify the things I've done. Sometimes I tell myself that these wildfires never stop burning. But I'm the one who starts them. Not God. Not them. I can always see it in my mind. The warmth and the heat. It will always be a part of me," Joshua paused, looking down the path where Salt-Upon-Wounds had fled. "But not today."

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